Kick at the Darkness
by SabaceanBabe
Summary: Post season 4 - Chiana is still blind, but has begun to have visions again. And the visions she has had spell potential big trouble for Moya and her crew.
1. Prologue

**Kick at the Darkness**

_Timeline placement: sometime after Season 4, potential spoilers through 4.22; takes place in the same AU created in "Morning Sickness"_

_Rating: PG-13_

_Disclaimer: The Farscape universe, and all that is in it, is not mine, but rather belongs to the Jim Henson Company. This is a work of fiction based in that universe. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has been or will be collected._

_Thank you so much to my betas: KNS, Grippy, CrystalMoon, MoyasGhost, and Lee in Limbo_

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Nothing worth having

Comes without some kind of fight

Got to kick at the darkness

'Til it bleeds daylight

– Barenaked Ladies, _Lovers in a Dangerous Time_

**Prologue**

It seemed like forever since Chiana had seen the faces of those she had come to love. She could hear their voices just fine and for that she was grateful, but she would give almost anything to be able to see them again, especially D'Argo. Almost. At the time, it hadn't seemed to be too great a sacrifice, using her "sight" to help Crichton, but now, after several monens had passed and still the most she could see was the occasional bright patch in the midst of all the darkness, the sacrifice seemed to grow heavier each day.

It was possible that her sight could be restored – Diagnosan Tikrel was almost certain of that. Then again, perhaps the procedure her friends were encouraging her to undergo wouldn't work. There was no way of knowing. Never before had she shied away from taking a gamble, so she was uncertain as to why it was so hard for her to commit to that step now, knowing that it would most likely return to her the world of color that she had come to crave.

Color. Now there was a concept. Where she came from, everything was shades of gray. Color was…different. Color was vibrant and full of life and energy, chaotic. Color drew attention to itself, drowned out all those more simple shades of gray and made them all but invisible. All of these things – vibrancy, chaos, life – were anathema to her people, though, and they would do anything to eradicate them for the "greater good."

Perhaps it was this struggle between two parts of her soul that was stopping her from plunging recklessly into a solution to her problem, as she normally would. Half of her wanted to take the chance, to risk not only permanent blindness – which she feared her current state might be, anyway – but also to risk brain damage or even death so that her sight could be restored. The other half of her wanted to take the safe course and do nothing, but that course would leave her blind, with only sporadic flashes of light to mitigate the dark.

She wasn't like Crichton; she couldn't live on hope – in this case, the hope that her sight would return to her on its own, as it always had before. All the previous bouts of blindness had only taken a few arns or, at most, a couple of solar days to fade. This time, though… This time she had been blind for nearly half a cycle.

Chiana sighed and rolled over to snuggle more tightly against the warm, solid bulk of the Luxan sharing her bed. She didn't have to make the decision now, whether to allow Tikrel to perform surgery or not. He would still be with them for a little while longer – at least until Crichton's baby was born. She allowed the gentle sounds of Moya and the even more comforting sound of D'Argo's breathing to soothe her to sleep. At least in her dreams, she could see.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

John Crichton paced. He had been unable to sleep, what with the baby river dancing on his left kidney, so, not wanting to disturb Aeryn, he had retreated from their quarters to a less-inhabited tier. Here he could pace in peace and not disturb anyone else's sleep if he happened to crash into a wall – the pregnancy was frelling with his sense of balance as well as his sleep.

For the past couple of weeks, his equilibrium had been totally shot, which he might be able to understand more readily, had they still been floating on the Qujagan sea, but they had left the planet some time ago, when the Qujagan Guard began to pick up stray Peacekeeper communications with greater and greater frequency. A vote had decided that it might be safer for all involved if they didn't stay in one place for too long.

As for the dizziness, Tikrel had told him earlier that day that it was a side effect of the pregnancy, but the Diagnosan had no idea how long it might last. Something to do with where the baby was situated in relation to some nerve or other. There wasn't much Tikrel could do about it with drugs, or – heaven forbid – Grandma's magic potions.

John's restless and occasionally off-kilter pacing was interruptedby a blood-chilling shriek echoing up and down Moya's corridors. The scream stopped him in his tracks. After the first realization that it was not issuing from Aeryn Sun – he couldn't imagine such a sound coming from her throat – his mind made the connection between current location and the distorted voice: Chiana.

John ran headlong toward the end of the corridor, but forced himself to slow down and use Moya's walls for support when he skidded round the corner and into one of Moya's ribs, just about breaking one of his own. "Sorry, sweetheart, Daddy'll be more careful," he whispered to the sprog, who probably had a bit of a headache right now. Moving more deliberately in an attempt to still the spinning in his head, he swung around the next corner and slid to a stop at the door to Chiana's quarters. "Chiana!" he shouted, pounding on the wall outside the closed cell door.

"John, she's all right," D'Argo's voice came to him from the darkened chamber. "Lights."

As the lights came up in the room, John could see D'Argo, through a gap in the privacy curtains, cradling a clearly frightened Chiana in the middle of her bed. "What the frell was that? It sounded like a friggin' banshee." Since his friends were not exactly dressed to receive guests, John turned away from the doorway and leaned back against the wall, relieved that neither of them seemed to be hurt. Closing his eyes, he tried to get his breathing back under control – he used to play football, for crying out loud – and willed the vertigo to take a hike.

"She had a dream," D'Argo's calm voice drifted through the cell door. "She hasn't told me what about it frightened her, yet."

"Captain D'Argo, is everything all right?" Pilot's voice through the comms was full of concern. "Moya said that she heard Chiana screaming. She is very worried."

"I'm – I'm okay, Pilot." Chiana's voice was a little shaky. "Tell Moya I'm okay."

John peeked through the opening in the privacy curtains again, to see if there was any less skin showing, only to discover that, because Chiana had shifted, there was perhaps a bit more. "If you're okay, Chi, I'll just move along, then. Nothing to see here."

He started back down the corridor, intending to return to his own quarters and try to go back to sleep, but Chiana's voice, no longer muffled by the privacy curtain, stopped him after only a couple of steps. "Don't go yet." He turned to see that she was standing in the middle of the now open doorway, wrapped in one of the bed sheets. "I don't think I can…can go back to sleep right now, anyway."

"Hey, you kids don't need me here. You and D'Argo—"

D'Argo, no longer naked, joined Chiana in the doorway. "I don't think we'll be sleeping again for a while." He looked down at the still visibly shaken Nebari then back over to John. "We need to talk. Why don't you meet us in the center chamber in half an arn, John?"

Chiana looked up toward the sound of D'Argo's voice through her white, sightless eyes, then over toward where she knew Crichton to be. "Yeah. We need to talk." She needed to tell Crichton about her…dream. His perspectives were always a little bit different from those of everyone else, and she needed those different perspectives right now. "Crichton? You wanna…you wanna come in?" Chiana felt D'Argo stiffen at the suggestion, but she couldn't wait for half an arn to talk about this, just to protect his sense of privacy. "You sound like you need to sit down."

Stepping carefully into the room, Crichton sat, or rather flopped, into a large, overstuffed chair Chiana had brought back with her from Earth. Sighing, Chiana made her way toward the bed and her discarded garments at its foot. She felt D'Argo's eyes on her as she dressed – she was certain that Crichton was deliberately not looking.

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Looking anywhere but at the image in the mirror of the gray girl dressing behind him, John picked up a necklace that rested on the table under the mirror. It looked like the one she had recovered a couple of cycles ago, that last time Maldis had played mind games with them. "So, what's with the nightmare, Chi?" he asked, watching the play of light and prismatic color in the otherwise unremarkable piece of jewelry.

Chiana flung the now unnecessary bed sheet over the back of a chair – this one from Moya's stores – and sat down on the end of her bed. Leaning toward John, she rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. D'Argo sat down next to her, not quite close enough to be touching, even when the depression he caused in the bed forced her toward him.

"Guys?" Crichton prompted, tossing the necklace back onto the table.

Chiana took a deep breath and plunged ahead before she could talk herself out of it or convince herself that it had been only a dream. "It wasn't a nightmare, or, at least not…not a normal one. It was a vision. Moya was crawling with Nebari. She was terrified and in pain. And D'Argo—" She stopped, seeing again in her mind the horrific image of D'Argo lying in a pool of black blood, not moving. "You were dead…" she continued, just short of a whisper.

Abruptly, she sat up, and then tried to stand, but D'Argo pulled her back down next to him. He took her hand tightly in his and wouldn't let go when she tried to break away, instead forcing her to sit. She relaxed against his warmth as much as she could under the circumstances and stopped trying to pull away when he put his arm around her, gently pushing her head onto his shoulder.

"Hush, Chiana. I'm not going to die," he said in a low voice. "It's not yet my time."

There was still a panicked urgency to her voice when she spoke again, lifting her head from D'Argo's shoulder, but not willing to pull away from his comforting arms. "How do you know that?! We've got to…we've got to get out of here, right away." She could feel both men looking at her as though she were out of her mind. "Nebari…my own people are coming here. I don't know when they'll get here, or why they're coming, but…but…but they're going to kill you, D'Argo!" She felt the terror of her vision begin to engulf her again, even as she fought against it.

"They may _try_."

"Let me get this straight – this wasn't just a dream." Crichton paused, apparently thinking. "You're having visions, Chi? As in, you know, _visions_?"

"Yeah, Crichton. Visions. Flashes of what's going to happen and I…I don't think it's going to be too long before they get here, so we have to _do_ something!"

D'Argo tightened his arm around her shoulders for a microt to quiet her. His deep voice rumbled through her when he spoke to their friend. "Yes, John, she has been having visions again. They seem to be stronger than ever. The last three she's told me about have been relatively minor things, but they were all at least a day prior to the event and seemed to be spit on."

"Spot on," Crichton absently corrected, chewing at his thumb. "A day, huh? Well, that's better than no warning at all."

As D'Argo and Crichton spoke, Chiana slipped back into the nightmare of her latest vision. Although she knew the visions she had were not always what they appeared to be on the surface, she was still terrified by what this one might mean. The image of D'Argo lying in a pool of blood, surrounded by Nebari, haunted her. The worst part of it was that they could only be coming here for her. Her presence alone was putting all of her friends in danger…

"Pip!" Crichton's voice broke through her ugly thoughts and she realized that both he and D'Argo had been trying to get her attention for several microts.

"Yeah, Crichton…?" Her voice sounded tentative, even to her own ears.

"Do you remember anything in your vision that might give you an idea of when this will happen? That might identify what part of space we'll be in? Anything at all that can help us make some sort of plan?"

She shook her head. "No, Crichton. I didn't see or…or…or hear anything. Not that I can remember."

"Okay… Any idea how long the time span will be between when you had the vision and when it might come true?"

"No." She shook her head, hair bobbing slightly, tickling her ears. "Sometimes it's only a couple of microts. The last few…like D'Argo said, it's been a day or two."

"But nothing that could be tracked? No difference in the feel of the vision that might indicate sooner rather than later?"

Again, she shook her head. As far as she could tell, there was never any kind of pattern to the visions when they came to her, nothing to say that it was more or less urgent. She could never seem to predict when they would come and she couldn't force them to come when she might want them, like she could when she slowed down time. They simply hit her with no warning and left just as quickly.

"Chiana and I have talked about that, John. These visions seem to be completely involuntary and just come on her in the blue."

"Out of the blue."

"Whatever." Chiana felt D'Argo tense a bit as he paused, only to continue on in a different direction. "Pilot, would you please wake the others and have them meet us in the center chamber in half an arn?" He stood, pulling away from Chiana in the process. She felt a chill at his abrupt absence out of all proportion to the loss of his body heat.

"Certainly, Captain D'Argo."

"Whoa, Big D. Where're you going?" Crichton voiced the question Chiana had been about to ask.

"I am going to Lo'La. Then I'll meet you in the center chamber with the others." The door opened with a slight whispering sound as he spoke.

"Lo'La?" Chiana asked, surprised.

"Yes. If Moya is to be overrun by Nebari, I want Lo'La under cloak and hidden. We may be able to use her later if the Nebari don't know about her." The door closed behind him before she or Crichton could say another word.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Tinkerbell, Diagnosan Tikrel's diminutive assistant, was the first to arrive for D'Argo's impromptu meeting – well, the first after herself and Crichton, anyway. At least, Chiana assumed it was Tink by the crashing sound against the door, just before it opened. Since the little Paakrit could simply fly through the openings on the old cell doors, she frequently forgot to open the solid doors before entering a room. Chiana didn't hear any footsteps between the time the door opened and when it closed, but she did become aware of a spicy scent wafting past her face as she leaned back against the wall. Crichton apparently didn't notice Tink's arrival, as she heard him still rummaging through Noranti's cooking supplies looking for something from his home world he called "kauffee."

Feeling a soft touch on her cheek, Chiana opened her eyes. Useless gesture, that – as if she could see anything. "Are you all right, Chiana?" The gentle touch and the question confirmed her guess as to who had just arrived.

"Yeah, Tink, I'm okay." That is, she was okay if being a bundle of nerves and frustration at not doing something was okay.

"Pilot said there is an emergency and that we were all to gather here."

"Sorry, Tink. We'll go through everything when the others get here. I don't wanna…don't wanna talk right now." She'd much rather scream. At least that might relieve some of her frustration, even if it wouldn't really do any good. She couldn't scream right at that microt, though – Tink didn't deserve that and Chiana was pretty sure the Paakrit would think that it was directed at her. Tinkerbell – Chiana never thought of her by her given name, even if she _could_ remember it, since Crichton's name for her fit so well – Tink sometimes had issues with self-esteem.

"That's okayee, Chiana. You must not talk if you do not wish to. I know that you're very tired." Chi smiled a little at the concern in Tink's voice and thought about how quickly the outgoing assistant had become a friend and a part of Moya's crew, much more readily than the reserved Diagnosan.

"You know what, Tink?" Chiana asked, leaning her head back against the wall. She allowed her eyes to drift closed again. "I'm glad D'Argo talked you and Tikrel into coming with us." She was rewarded with Tink's faint hum of pleasure and another soft stroke to her cheek just before the little insectoid flittered off, probably to see what Crichton was doing.

The door opened again and Aeryn Sun entered the room. "John, are you all right?" Unlike Tink's spicy scent, the air preceding and following Aeryn smelled of leather and chakkan oil. She stopped next to Chiana. "Chiana, what's going on? Pilot said there's an emergency."

Chiana rolled her head toward the sound of Aeryn's voice, still maintaining contact with the wall. "I guess there is, Aeryn, yeah. Nothing's wrong with Crichton, though, so don't…don't worry."

"Yeah, Aeryn. I'm fine." Crichton's voice sounded muffled and Chi thought he must have his head stuffed into a cupboard, still searching for his kauffee.

Several things happened simultaneously then, and Chiana knew she had been right to worry that her latest vision didn't give them the early warning D'Argo and Crichton had hoped for.

She heard a loud crash that seemed to her to be coming from Moya's hull. The crash was quickly followed by scraping sounds, almost as though something had just attached itself to the Leviathan's outer hull. Her impression was further strengthened by a reverberation that she picked up through the back of her head where it still rested against the wall.

"Commander Crichton, Moya is—!" Pilot's voice, broadcast over the comms, had a frightened urgency to it even as whatever he was about to say was cut off.

A strange vibration began in Moya's walls and floors – Chiana felt it through her shoulders and the soles of her boots. Pilot began to moan incoherently, as if in pain. It was an eerie and frightening sound, blending as it did with Moya's own keening, which began at almost the same instant. She heard a muffled curse from Crichton's general location and thought that he must've cracked his head as he pulled out of the cupboard.

Moya suddenly shifted violently in a direction Chiana could only interpret as "down," causing the bench on which she sat to lift off the floor and then crash back before everything shifted just as violently toward the hammond side. There was a dull thud she thought might have been Aeryn hitting the wall against which Chiana had been leaning and a startled squeak from Tink from the other side of the room.

"Pilot! What's happening?" Aeryn shouted. She received only another anguished moan in response.

Crichton yelled into his comms, "D! You okay, man? D'Argo!" The sound of his voice grew closer as he ran toward Aeryn and herself.

Chiana was terrified. "Crichton! We…we've gotta get to the main hangar! We've gotta stop them!" This had to be an attack by the Nebari, as she had seen in her vision. She tried to stand as Moya again shifted violently, throwing her into the wall before she could catch herself. She fell to the floor, hitting her head on the edge of the table. Chiana started to push herself up even as the vibration rippling through Moya's hull stopped.

Pilot's moans faded to silence when the vibration ceased, but a thin keening from the big ship continued unabated. "Moya…" he began.

"What's wrong with Moya, Pilot?" Aeryn asked, her voice urgent as she helped Chiana to stand. The Nebari girl felt something trickling through her hair and down the back of her neck – even though she couldn't feel the pain yet, she knew she was bleeding.

"Moya has been forced into a control collar." The Leviathan shifted again as an incredulous Pilot answered Aeryn's question. Moya's movement felt like nothing so much as a shudder of revulsion to Chiana.

"D'Argo…" Chiana could hear the edge of panic in her voice as the vision returned, forcing out all other thoughts.

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Gurvis kicked a crate out of the way and knelt down, rolling the big Luxan over on the hangar floor, careful not to step in the black blood pooling around the fallen man's head. He reached out to peel back an eyelid. Judging from the reaction of the pupil to the lights overhead, the Luxan was still alive. Good. Gurvis' orders were to make sure no one died, if it could be helped.

"Gurvis!" An excited shout came from behind him.

"Yes, Verisa? Have you found something?" He had assigned her the task of determining what the Luxan had been doing in the hangar while the rest of the boarding party prepared to take possession of the Leviathan.

The unconscious man should not have been in the hangar. The crew of the Leviathan should have had no warning that anything might be amiss. Of course, he supposed the Luxan's presence here at this time could have been a coincidence, but believing in things like coincidence were a luxury they couldn't afford.

"It looks like a ship left the hangar just before we boarded."

"Are you certain?" There had been nothing on visuals nor had there been any indication on their instruments… Gurvis abruptly stood from his examination of the damaged Luxan and turned toward Verisa, who was reading information from a screen at one of the Leviathan's diagnostic stations.

"I couldn't find anything in the visual records, Gurvis, but instrument-only scans seem to indicate mass and a power signature. I don't know what it could be but some sort of smallish ship." She shrugged gray-clad shoulders.

Frowning, he gestured to his lieutenant to move out with the others into the rest of the ship. Taking the Leviathan herself had been successful, so far, but he guessed from their reputations that the inhabitants would not take the invasion lightly. Given the massive ship's convulsions when they had installed the control collar – an amalgamation of Peacekeeper and Nebari design – his crew could no longer rely on the element of surprise, as they had in the initial ambush of the Leviathan.

Gurvis watched as the other Nebari filed out of the hangar into the interior, confident that Noren knew exactly what to do to subdue the rest of the ship's residents. There should be no real problems as they had been careful to infiltrate the ship during what their intelligence had indicated was the crew's sleep cycle. True, they could no longer count the advantage of surprise, but they would nevertheless be dealing with beings newly awakened from what should have been a peaceful sleep.

And yet, here was the Luxan, bleeding still. "Verisa. Do we have any idea which part of the ship is set aside for the Diagnosan's use? This one may need his services." Taking off his jacket, Gurvis folded the soft gray fabric into a pad and knelt again, placing it under the Luxan's head, wondering how to stop the bleeding. He didn't know how serious the injury might be, knowing nothing about Luxans beyond their renown as fighters, but he didn't think allowing him to continue to bleed like that could possibly be good.

"I don't see anything here in the ship's databases, but I remember something in the intelligence reports about tier eight, toward the center of that level."

Gurvis nodded and tapped his comms. "Noren."

"I'm here."

"Finding the Diagnosan is your first priority. I need you to bring him back here to the hangar as soon as you find him. His quarters should be located on tier eight, near the center of the level."

"But I thought we were here for the girl?"

"If she's on this ship, she isn't going anywhere right now." He thought uneasily of Verisa's belief that a ship had left the hangar even as they had attached the control collar. "Our orders are to make sure no one on this Leviathan dies. The Luxan needs medical attention."

"I'll look for him, Gurvis, but it's a big ship."

Gurvis sighed. "Just bring him here when you find him." Why must they always question his commands? There were times he actually missed his days on Nebari Prime. He settled on a bench to wait for progress reports, a headache beginning to build behind his eyes. There were only ten people on the Leviathan, including her Pilot, who was in a fixed and known position. How long could it possibly take for them to subdue ten people who were supposed to be asleep?

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"I will not argue with you about this, John. You. Will not. Go near. The hangar." The ex-Peacekeeper's tone brooked no argument as her words hit him like shrapnel.

"Aeryn—" he began.

She cut him off with a look. "I will knock you out myself and lock you in one of Moya's cells, if it becomes necessary, John Crichton."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, in as meek a tone as he could muster. "But—"

John received another withering look before she turned to issue orders to Chiana and an anxiety-orange Tinkerbell, completely ignoring him. Damn, he hated it when she went all PK on him, but he supposed that might not be a bad thing under the circumstances.

"Chiana, you and John will go to the…" she shot a sideways look at John before continuing, "…laundry room." Before the argument had started about who was going to the hangar to check on D'Argo, they had all four agreed that the amnexus chamber would be the last place the Nebari would look for any of them. "If the Nebari come too close, you can always hide for a while in Moya's amnexus fluid." It really wasn't funny; even so John almost laughed when Chiana visibly shuddered at the suggestion. "Tinkerbell, you—"

"Aeryn…"

"Oh, for the love of Cholak!" Her grey eyes flashed fire. "John, you can barely walk, let alone run if you need to. You're in no condition to try to lift D'Argo if he cannot move on his own."

John sighed as he raised his hands in surrender. "You're right. Go ahead. You go see if you can help D'Argo. Chi and I'll head for the laundry room and Tink can try to round up the others and have 'em meet us there when they can."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she listened to him. "I mean it, Aeryn. I'll be a good little boy and go to the laundry room. I promise." Of course, that didn't mean that he'd stay in the laundry room or _only_ go to the laundry room, but she really was right about his physical stamina. The baby was taking a lot out of him, and the frelling vertigo – it could be dangerous if he got into any kind of physical struggle while trying to help his friend. On the other hand, if D'Argo was bleeding the way Chiana's vision said he was, he needed help fast, before his blood went toxic.

"I will go to Diagnosan Tikrel's quarters first, Johncrichton," Tink volunteered. She still tended to run their names together whenever she was nervous. "If Aerynsun can get Capi-tain-d-argo to the lon-der-ree room, Diagnosan Tikrel can help him there."

John reached over and palmed the door open, gesturing for the little Paakrit to head out. She darted past him in an orange and red blur, leaving a faint trail of cinnamon and cloves in the air. "Be careful, Tink!" he called after her.

Aeryn checked the chakkan oil charge in her pulse pistol before slapping it back into its holster. She stepped over to her mate. Placing her hands to either side of his face, she leaned in, touching his forehead briefly with hers, and kissed him. "You be careful, John," she breathed against his lips. Then she was gone and he was left alone with Chiana.

"We make a great pair, Pip. A blind chick and a guy who's the frelling poster child for Murphy's Law." He let out a short, harsh laugh. "The Nebari should tremble in fear."

"It's not so bad, Old Man. The Establishment'd surrender like that," she snapped her nimble fingers in a gesture of contempt, "if they realized who they were up against."

John snorted as he reached out and took Chiana's hand. "Let's go do us some laundry."


	4. Chapter 3

(a quick thanks to Lee in Limbo for his help)

**Chapter Three**

"Are you sure they're listening in on the comms?" Chiana asked. She and Crichton had stopped at his and Aeryn's quarters to get his pulse pistol. She leaned in the doorway as he rummaged through the room, looking for something – it wasn't Winona, because she was pretty sure she had already heard him strap on his holster.

"No," John answered, "but we know it can be done and I don't want to take the chance. We have no idea what the hell they want, so we're all better off if we can keep outta their way until we come up with a plan to get rid of 'em."

More noise ensued. "What're you doing, Crichton? Aren't we supposed to be in a hurry?"

"Yeah, but I had an idea. I'm almost finished…." She couldn't tell just what he was doing from the faint sounds he made as he moved around the room. "Nebari don't like things to be out of their control, right?"

"Right…"

"Kind of throws them for a loop if they get startled or surprised?"

"Mmm hmmm…" She was beginning to get a bit impatient.

"Just setting a little booby trap for them, if they happen to come in here."

Her curiosity piqued, Chiana asked, "What kind of booby trap?"

"Some old fashioned, head bangin' rock music. As loud as this baby can go."

"Your stereo?"

"Yep."

She laughed. "I just wish I could see it if they set it off."

"There, that ought to do it." She heard the scrape of his boots on the floor as he turned toward her and said, "You may at least be able to hear their reaction. 1812, front and center." Chiana heard the faint whirring sound of something moving out from under something else in the far corner of the room. The whirring came closer, stopping very near to where Crichton was standing. "I need you and your cousins to hook this up to Moya's internal speakers." Crichton turned back toward her and took her hand again, leading her back off into Moya's interior. "If they set it off, we'll hear it all over Moya and hopefully be able to use it to our advantage." She felt a tug on her hand as he stumbled and then caught himself.

"Crichton?" His idea of the booby trap and worry about the comms had gotten her thinking…

"Yeah, Pip?"

"Wasn't Moya able to talk to Talyn using a…a…a…a…laser beam? So no one could listen in?"

Crichton stopped in his tracks, pulling Chiana to an abrupt halt. "Yes, Chi. Yes, she was. Nobody could intercept the communications unless they were in the path of the beam…" She could almost feel him looking at her. "What d'you have in mind?"

"Maybe she could do something like that with us. I mean, maybe Pilot could use the DRDs to…to…to set something up that we could use like that."

"Hmm. Maybe. But it would pretty much have to be a line-of-sight thing, or at least close proximity…" He started walking again, a little faster than before.

"Well, maybe it could…maybe it could be something like the DRDs carrying messages for us…. There're DRDs all over Moya. They're just a part of her. No one would notice if they moved around."

"I think you might have something there, Pip. Let's get you set up in the laundry room and we'll go from there."

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Noranti started around the corner, her third eye open and glowing red. She was quite surprised to see a group of armed Nebari approaching, stopping at each corridor and cell, looking for something. Or someone. She quickly backed up so they wouldn't see her. After a couple of microts, she cautiously peered around the corner. While she watched, she made note of the fact that the group got a bit smaller with each branching corridor.

Of course, Pilot had said that there was an emergency and that they were all to meet in the center chamber. He just hadn't mentioned what the emergency was and she hadn't been awake enough to ask about it. She regretted that now. It had been over a quarter arn since he had awakened her, just before Moya had gone into some kind of spasms. That had certainly forced her to wake up – her knees and wrists still hurt from being thrown to the floor. Ah, well, she supposed she was going to be late for the meeting. She heard voices in the corridor. Oh, yes, the Nebari. She suspected she would have been late in any event, given their unsettling and unexpected presence.

Since she was still fairly close to her own quarters, where she kept a good portion of her supplies, Noranti wheeled around and headed back to her room as quickly and as quietly as she could. Slipping inside, she rooted through bags and boxes and jars of powders. Perhaps some of that powdered xekrakka root… She wasn't sure if it would react appropriately with Nebari physiology, but it was supposed to cause instant confusion and vomiting in anyone inhaling it. That should give her enough time to slip past them and get safely to the rendezvous point.

Assuming, of course, that the center chamber was still available for them to meet. She had attempted to comm both Crichton and D'Argo earlier and received no response. She thought Pilot might have turned the comms off. That would make sense. It certainly wouldn't do to have the Nebari listening in on all of their plans. But, if the comms had been turned off, and they were scattered about in different parts of the ship, how were they to make their plans?

Noranti shook her head and turned, powdered xekrakka root in hand, at the sound of booted feet approaching her door. She sighed. They would think of something. They always did, so why should it be any different now?

"Ahhh. There you are." The rather handsome Nebari standing in her open doorway looked a bit confused at her reaction to his arrival. "Come closer, dear, I have something to show you."

He gestured toward the corridor with a pulse pistol of some sort – she was unfamiliar with the design – and said, "Move into the hall, old woman."

"Well, really! I see no reason for you to be rude." She certainly hoped he was alone, but how could one be sure when one couldn't see past him to the corridor beyond? She stepped slowly forward, striving for the appearance of nervous compliance to his command.

"You are now my prisoner, old woman," the young man said, rather pompously, she thought, still aiming his pulse pistol at her head.

"Well, of course I am," Noranti acknowledged, stepping just a bit closer and willing him to not shoot her. "You're the one with the weapon, after all." There. That last dench was all she needed.

Before he could react, she blew the greenish powder into his face, some even going into his mouth as he had been about to say something else when she made her move. The dust caused him to double over with a violent sneeze and then fall to his knees over the threshold into her quarters, vomiting just as violently.

"I do hope you plan to clean that up, young man," she said, as she stepped nimbly around him. Reaching behind her as she left, she hit the door control and locked it. The only way the unknown Nebari would be able to leave the former cell would be by someone outside opening the door for him.

"Yes, I'm definitely late," she muttered, hurrying on to her appointment.

----------------------

"What to do? What to do? What to do?" Stark muttered under his breath as he stood locked in indecision at a crossroads in Moya's corridors. "Center chamber…laundry room…center chamber…laundry room…"

Pilot had awakened him from a very pleasant dream of his beloved Zhaan – who, for some reason, bore a striking resemblance to Aeryn – to tell him to go to the center chamber. The only explanation Pilot had given was that there was an emergency and that Captain D'Argo had called a meeting.

Stark had gotten dressed and left his dream of Zhaan/Aeryn behind, heading quickly to the center chamber, when he had been stopped first by some sort of convulsions through Moya and then by the arrival of Tinkerbell. The Diagnosan's assistant had come flying around a corner, a blur of orange and red, and caught herself on the collar of his shirt. Righting herself and hovering at eye level, she had told him in an urgent whisper to stay off the comms and go immediately to something she had called the "lon-der-ree room." His confusion must have been obvious to her, as she had repeated her instructions, but they had been no clearer to him. It had taken him a couple of microts to equate the lon-der-ree room with the amnexus chamber, but by the time it had come to him, she was gone.

Pilot had been very sure the meeting was to be in the center chamber, but Tinkerbell had been equally certain that it was to be in what Crichton had dubbed the laundry room. The center chamber made sense, but a laundry room was a very odd place to hold a meeting…

"What are you doing, you wellnitz?" Stark jumped at the sound of Rygel's gruff voice behind him.

"Pilot said to go to the center chamber. Tinkerbell said to go to the laundry room."

"Yes, they did." Rygel sounded irritated, but then, that wasn't unusual. "So why are you just standing there?"

"What do we do? Where do we go?" Stark wished this were one of his better days. Some days he felt clear and full of purpose; others he was cloudy and lacking in direction. Unfortunately, this was one of the latter. He would've been fine if only one person had told him where to go, but now he had conflicting instructions. His head hurt.

"Come on, Stark. We're going to the laundry room. The meeting has been changed by the Nebari." Rygel slipped past Stark, not even looking back to see if he followed.

"The Nebari!?" Stark came to a dead stop, staring after the retreating Dominar. As Rygel disappeared in the distance, Stark shook his head and ran after the Hynerian.

-------------------------

_Frell!_ Aeryn thought. She was lying flat on the floor, hidden in a duct inside of Moya's walls – a place usually reserved only for the DRDs. Not far away, she could see D'Argo lying very still, something gray wadded up under his head. There was a Nebari male sitting on a bench perhaps a motra from him. Another Nebari, a female, was tapping away at a diagnostic station.

While there were only two of them apparent in the enormous room, the Nebari nearest to D'Argo was watching him intently. The man was armed with a pulse pistol strapped to his thigh and a rifle held loosely in his hands. His casual pose didn't deceive her – he had the air of military training about him. That relaxed grip would tighten in a fraction of a microt if she made a move toward her friend. _I didn't think the Nebari had any sort of military force, _she thought. _They usually lean more toward subversion…_

She looked around for something she could use as a diversion so that she could strike with a real chance of getting D'Argo safely out of the hangar. Hampering her strategy was that she couldn't see enough of the room from her current position to be sure of enemy numbers. According to Chiana's vision, which Aeryn was beginning to take seriously, Moya was being overrun by Nebari.

Aeryn began easing back out of her cramped hiding space to move to one with a better vantage when the hangar door opened. She froze, waiting to see who or what would come through it. A microt later, Diagnosan Tikrel, hands apparently secured behind his back, was pushed into the hanger by another Nebari male. This one was carrying a pulse rifle aimed at the center of Tikrel's back.

While she watched, the Nebari who had been guarding D'Argo gestured for the new arrivals to come toward him, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. It appeared that he was instructing Tikrel to help D'Argo. From the way the other two were reacting to him, he was in command, which made him her most logical target if she could get into position for a clear shot.

Backing as silently as possible out of the little maintenance corridor, Aeryn reached a place where she could stand upright again. Straightening, her attention on the perimeter of her new location, she almost tripped over a DRD. She started to go around it, but it maintained its place in front of her, as though trying to get her attention.

Stopping, she crouched down to the DRD's level. In one of its extremities was a small, clear crystal – the sparkle as the light hit it had caught her eye. The DRD waggled the crystal-carrying appendage at her. Cocking her head, she asked, "You want me to take this?" In response, the DRD pushed the crystal toward her. Once Aeryn had accepted it, another tool emerged from the yellow carapace and projected writing onto Moya's wall.

The message read, in Sebacean, COMMS COMPROMISED. CRYSTAL-TO-CRYSTAL LASER COMMUNICATIONS WILL NOT BE INTERCEPTED.

"Cholak!" Aeryn hissed, startled. "Pilot, is that you?" She kept her voice low – loud enough to be picked up by the DRD, but low enough not to carry beyond the confines of her hiding place.

YES, AERYN. PLEASE PLACE THE CRYSTAL ON THE BONE BEHIND YOUR EAR. IT WILL ACT AS A RECEIVER FOR VOICE TRANSMISSIONS.

Examining the small crystal in her hand, Aeryn realized that one side was flat. Pushing her hair out of the way – she'd had no time to restrain it before events had begun to unfold – she placed the flat of the crystal against her skull, just behind her right ear. There was a tiny electrical shock as it adhered to her skin. "Moya grew the crystals. The DRDs are attempting to deliver them to all of you." Pilot's voice sounded – and felt – odd, issuing as it did from the crystal just behind her ear and vibrating faintly through her head, but his familiar, measured tones were reassuring.

"Was this your idea, Pilot?" She kept her voice to a low whisper, almost subvocalized.

"Not entirely, Aeryn. Moya and I had discussed the need for a more secure method of communicating when Scorpius was on board, but the suggestion for the mode of delivery came from Chiana and Commander Crichton less than an arn ago."

"They're all right, then." Although her tone was that of a statement, the question implied in that statement was obvious.

"Yes, Aeryn, at least for the microt. They had arrived in the amnexus chamber when I last was in contact with them. As to the narrow-beam laser communications, no one should be able to intercept these transmissions unless they come between you and the DRD intermediary and are also equipped with a crystal."

Aeryn noticed that the DRD that had given her the crystal had changed its position. It was no longer in front of her, but rather had moved off to her right side and a bit behind. Apparently the fall of her hair was no obstruction to the laser, but the DRD's earlier orientation in relation to the crystal may have been.

"If John and Chiana just suggested this, Pilot, how was Moya able to create the crystals so quickly?" The Nebari invaders hadn't been on board for very long…

"They merely suggested the use of the DRDs for delivery, Aeryn. Moya had already grown the crystals weekens ago. We were inspired by Crichton's suspicions of Scorpius spying through the comms, but, since Scorpius is no longer aboard, we had not completed the crystals until now."

What had begun as a faint smile stretched across Aeryn's face into a full-blown grin. The grin faded quickly as another thought occurred to her. "Pilot, how badly is that control collar frelling with Moya's systems?"

There was a long pause, during which she thought Pilot must be conferring with Moya. Then, "Moya says that the Nebari collar does not seem to be as thorough in its limitations as those the Peacekeepers use."

Well, that was something, anyway. "Who else has received a crystal?"

"You are the first, Aeryn. So far, the DRDs have been…unable to deliver them to the rest of our crew."

Pilot sounded worried, and with good reason. Aeryn's attention was drawn by the sounds of a scuffle in the hangar. She quickly dove back down through the DRD access point, returning to her previous position.

On the opposite side of the hangar, a struggle had begun when Tikrel, hands released from their restraints, had knelt down to examine D'Argo. Knowing what needed to be done, Tikrel had turned the Luxan over and lifted a fist, bringing it down hard on the back of his head. The Nebari Aeryn thought might be the leader had caught the Diagnosan in what looked like an uncomfortable grip, preventing him from further treatment, while the female shouted something Aeryn couldn't understand.

Having been provided the distraction she needed, Aeryn lifted her pulse pistol into position and prepared to fire, provided she could get a clear shot without risking Tikrel.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Tinkerbell hovered close to the ceiling and hoped the Nebari intruders wouldn't notice her. She thought she could probably outfly them, if she really had to, but she didn't want to put it to the test.

After her unsuccessful attempt at reaching Tikrel – his chamber had been empty when she had gotten there, with evidence of a struggle – she had gone first to Rygel and then to Stark. Rygel had understood what she was talking about right away, but she wasn't sure about Stark. He had seemed so confused, even though she had repeated three times that he should join up with Crichton and Chiana in the lon-der-ree room. She hoped that Stark would be all right, but her real concern now was Diagnosan Tikrel.

If there had been a struggle, there was no way of knowing whether the Diagnosan had been able to retain his breathing apparatus or whether the Nebari knew or even cared that he needed it to survive. Tinkerbell had seen no evidence that it had been taken from him, but neither had she seen anything to indicate that the old Diagnosan was safe or in good health.

Not knowing what else to do, she made the decision to find Crichton and Chiana and spun around, intending to slip out of the corridor without being spotted. As she did this, she spotted a DRD weaving its way between three Nebari at the other end of the corridor. One of the Nebari trained her weapon on the little mechanical for a microt, but then relaxed and returned to her search, apparently deciding it was no threat. While Nebari attention was on the DRD, Tinkerbell flitted around the corner and into a new corridor, remaining near the ceiling to avoid unwanted attention.

Continuing on her course, hoping to come across either some sign that Tikrel was all right or to find Noranti – the only one save Diagnosan Tikrel and Captain D'Argo who had not yet been told of the meeting's change in venue – Tinkerbell was surprised to discover the DRD was keeping up with her.

She came to an abrupt stop, hovering. The DRD stopped just below her. A little opening formed and an arm came out of it, something glinting at its end, reflecting the low lighting in the corridor. Descending a bit for a closer look, she heard footsteps coming from somewhere up ahead, in the direction toward which she had been flying. Simultaneously, Tinkerbell and the DRD backed up into the shadows, the Paakrit again near the ceiling, the drone melting into the shadow created by one of Moya's ribs.

Tinkerbell held her breath, but released it in a sigh of relief as Noranti came into view, moving cautiously and pausing to check behind her for followers.

-

Gurvis had a tight hold on the Diagnosan when his comms buzzed. "What is it?" he growled.

"We've searched everywhere on the crew decks, Gurvis," a female voice – he thought it was Noren's second, but he couldn't recall her name – reported, "but we haven't been able to locate anyone."

_Wonderful. Just what I need_, Gurvis groused to himself. It wasn't only the Luxan who was not where he was supposed to be, but the entire crew, it seemed. How could they possibly have known Gurvis and his team were coming?

"What do we do now?" the woman asked. The Diagnosan trilled something at the same time, but Gurvis had no clue what he said.

"What now?" the Nebari leader repeated, incredulous. "Search the rest of the ship!" He started to suggest where to look – the center chamber or command deck, for starters – when the Diagnosan tried to pull away from him and surprised him utterly by saying, in a high-pitched and halting voice, "I must…attend to D'Argo. His…blood is be…coming toxic."

Gurvis looked up at the alien's face, but could see little behind the mask. "Toxic?"

"I must…force his blood to…flow clear." Perhaps sensing that Gurvis was listening, the Diagnosan seemed to relax a bit in the Nebari's hold.

"Is that why you hit him?"

"Yes."

"Verisa. Noren." Glancing at his subordinates, one of whom was frozen at the diagnostic terminal while the other still held his weapon trained on the no-longer-struggling prisoner, Gurvis asked, "Do either of you know anything about Luxan physiology?"

They both shook their heads. He looked back up at the Diagnosan. "What's your name?"

"I am…Tikrel."

"All right, Tikrel. I'm going to let you loose. Do not attempt to escape. The only thing I want you to do is fix the Luxan. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

Hoping he wasn't making a mistake, Gurvis released the tall, frail-seeming creature, who immediately returned to the Luxan's side.

-

"You understand that you're totally fahrbot, right?" Chiana couldn't keep the frustration from her voice. "Crichton, if you get yourself…if you get yourself killed, Aeryn's going to have _my_ head!" She and Crichton had been in the laundry room for about a quarter arn. They had spoken to Pilot about their ideas for a secure comms system on their way there, about which Pilot had been hopeful that he and Moya could come up with something, and now Crichton was getting restless. So was she, for that matter.

She couldn't see the Human, but she could hear him as he ran a circuit of the laundry room, checking all of the access points, large and small. She also heard the faint whirring sound as a DRD entered through one of the small access points near to the back of the room – an entrance that happened to be nearest to the direction of Pilot's den, if anyone cared to wriggle their way through it from here.

"I'm not going to get myself killed, Pip." She knew Crichton had that frelling grin on his face.

"I can't believe you promised Aeryn… Never mind. Yes, I can." He would've promised her anything to keep her from worrying about him. "So, you're just going to abandon me here? W- W- What do you think you can do to help D'Argo and Aeryn, anyway?"

"I don't know what I can do to help, but I can't just sit here, staring at the walls. Hel-lo!" She knew that last wasn't directed at her; he sounded startled.

"What's up?" Chi cocked her head, listening more intently, but all she heard was the creak of leather as Crichton crouched down closer to the floor.

Crichton didn't answer her right away. "Crichton?"

"Hang on, Pip. Damn, Pilot, that was fast."

Pilot? Frell, she wished that she could just see! "Crichton? What's going on? Does Pilot have the new…the new comms set up already?"

After another few microts, Crichton's distracted voice drifted to her from closer to floor level, confirming her suspicion that he was crouching to look at something. "Yeah, Chi, Pilot and Moya have things all set up." She heard more creaking of leather as he stood and came toward where she was sitting, back against a wall. He crouched down beside her – she inhaled the scent that belonged to Crichton alone – and lightly touched the back of her head, just under her hair.

"Moya grew some communications crystals for us," Crichton said, as she felt a small electrical shock go through her skull from behind her left ear. "I just put it—"

"Behind my ear, yeah, Crichton, I figured that one out." She reached up to touch the spot where the electricity had originated. The crystal felt warm to her fingertip. Leather creaked again as he stood, but she grabbed for him, gripping what turned out to be a wrist, so that he ended up hauling her to her feet. "You're not going anywhere without me, Old Man. No way are you gonna have all the fun."

"Chiana—"

She cut him off. "Don't 'Chiana' me, Crichton. You're not going to listen to Aeryn; I'm not going to listen to you. If you insist on…on…on being stupid, I'm going to be stupid right along with you."

"Chiana." Pilot's voice seemed to vibrate in her head, felt more than heard. She shook her head to clear the odd sensation as he continued, "You should stay hidden. It seems that it is you that the Nebari are looking for."

"I knew it!" She abruptly let go of Crichton's wrist and spun away from him. "This is all my frelling fault! I shoulda just left a long time ago, then you wouldn't all be in this position, and Moya wouldn't be—"

Now it was her turn to be cut off. "Moya says she is fine, Chiana. She is much more worried about all of—" Abruptly, Pilot's voice was gone.

For a handful of microts, she heard nothing else. She waited, pounding a fist against her thigh, her pulse racing through her veins, then, "Tikrel's with him?" Crichton sounded like he was responding to something Pilot had said to him. "Are they all right? Are they in Nebari custody?" Chi couldn't hear Pilot's reply, but he must have said something Crichton didn't like.

"Shit," Crichton said. There was no heat in his voice, so whatever it was must not be too bad. "But Aeryn and Tink both have the crystals…?" There was a pause, then, "Okay, Grandma's wired, too. That's good."

"Hey, Pilot!" Chiana said to the room at large, still frightened but more angry at the situation they currently found themselves in.

"—es, Chiana?"

"Is there any way Crichton and I can both hear what you're saying?"

"If you stand close together, I can have the DRD widen the spread of the laser a bit. It might be enough, if you are close enough, that you would both be able to hear me."

"Give it a shot, Pilot," she said, turning back toward Crichton. She knew he hadn't moved away from his previous spot – his leathers would've given him away.

Taking a couple of steps toward where Crichton had been standing before she had pulled away from him, Chi grabbed for his arm again. Her aim true, she connected with his left elbow, so, maintaining the connection, she dropped her hand down to his and pulled him up against her. Felt kind of good, actually, when his other arm came around her waist to steady himself. It surprised the hezmana out of her, though, when she felt the baby kick out against her loomas from Crichton's rounded midsection. Brazening it out, she smiled and ran a finger along his jaw and then back up to the base of his skull through the soft, short hair until she reached the warm spot that was his communications crystal. "Pilot says if we're close enough to each other, he can maybe…maybe make himself heard by both of us."

"Down, girl." Crichton's breath was soft against her cheek and she knew he was looking down at her. "Well, Pilot? Are we close enough?"

"You tell me, Commander… Chiana… Can both of you hear me?"

Simultaneously, Chiana said, "Yeah, Pilot," while Crichton responded, "Clear as a bell."

"That will make communications a bit easier," Pilot admitted.

Crichton snorted, a brief puff of air against her cheek. "Just so long as I don't have to stand this close to Rygel or Grandma."

"Pilot, did I hear Crichton say Tikrel is with D'Argo…? Is D'Argo…? Is he okay, Pilot?" Nice though it felt to have Crichton so close, she had to know. She was pretty sure Pilot wasn't going to tell her D'Argo was dead. All the same, she needed to actually hear it for herself that he hadn't gotten himself killed.

"From what Aeryn has told me, Chiana, he is still unconscious, but the Nebari are allowing Tikrel to treat him."

"Can any of the DRDs get close enough to D'Argo or the doc to get a crystal in place?" Crichton asked.

"Wouldn't that be too much of a risk, Crichton?" Chiana asked. Sure, it'd be hard for the intruders to intercept a transmission, she thought, but they'd know something was happening if D'Argo or Tikrel was too startled to contain it, either when the crystal was attached or when Pilot began speaking.

"It'd be a risk, yeah, but if Aeryn's right there and can communicate with them through the DRDs, it might help to get 'em out."

"I will confer with Aeryn," Pilot interjected, "as she is the one best able to assess their current circumstance."

-

_By the yotz. The psychotic bugger managed to keep up after all_, Rygel thought to himself as he heard Stark running after him, his footsteps much closer now than they had been a quarter arn ago.

He hadn't really intended to leave him behind. Hoped, maybe, but not intended. So it was just as well that Stark had followed him from the intersection where Rygel had found the confused Bannik, wallowing in self-doubt. The man would probably have never figured out what Tinkerbell's "lon-der-ee" room was, left to his own devices.

It shouldn't have taken this long to reach his destination, but he had kept having to dodge the Nebari. How the hezmana had they gotten on board Moya, anyway? Luckily, Rygel knew every nook and cranny aboard the Leviathan – nooks and crannys that Moya herself probably wasn't aware of. He had no problem avoiding the Nebari.

Rygel was still trying to figure out how Stark had avoided capture – there was absolutely nothing subtle about the man – when he waved the door open and entered the "laundry" room, Stark close behind.

"What have you done now, Crichton?" the Dominar asked as he glided into the room. However this whole situation had happened, he was certain the Human had something to do with it. "Do the frelling Nebari want wormholes now, too?"

"Shhhh," Crichton replied, waving Rygel off.

The Hynerian stopped his throne-sled, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Crichton and Chiana in what looked like the kind of embrace these body-breeders seemed to be obsessed with. "Does Aeryn know about this?" he asked.

The Human and the Nebari ignored him. Rygel shook his head, used to the lack of respect, and made his way around the room, checking that his possible routes of escape were clear, should it become necessary. Seeing the door was still open, he ordered, "Stark, close that frelling door!"

The Bannik jumped, startled, but then complied, hitting the control. "Sorry, Rygel," he said. "I wasn't thinking."

"That's apparent."

"Thanks, Pilot. Keep us posted," Crichton said.

Pilot? He had thought the comms were turned off… What exactly was going on? "What are you yammering on about now, Crichton?"

"Moya's made us some communication crystals, Ryg," Chiana began.

"Hey, Sparky, it's nice to see you, too." Rygel snorted his disbelief, which only caused the Human's grin to widen.

Crichton abruptly broke away from Chiana and headed toward the door. "No, really, Rygel. Now that you and Stark are here, I can go check up on D'Argo and Aeryn." He popped his head out the door, checking for intruders, drawing his pulse pistol from its holster. "Noranti and Tink should be here any microt. You two," he said, looking at Rygel and Stark in turn, "are the last ones to be wired in."

"Well, that makes about as much sense as anything else you've ever said to me," Rygel replied.

"Crichton, you really should stay here. Let me go instead," Chiana said.

"Chiana, you can't see to help D'Argo and you're the one they're looking for, anyway. We're not going to let them have you. I'll move slowly enough the vertigo shouldn't bother me and I'll stay out of sight. I just can't let Aeryn fight off the invasion of the personality snatchers all by herself." With that he stepped through the door, closing it behind him.

"All right, Chiana, talk," Rygel growled. "What the yotz is going on?"


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Frell it all!_ Aeryn thought as she was forced to give up her shot. For several tense microts, there had simply been too much random movement and now Tikrel was between her and the Nebari leader. She so wanted to shoot something, but she just couldn't risk hitting the Diagnosan. Quite aside from the fact that he was a shipmate, he was also vital to John until their child was safely born.

By the time Tikrel had knelt again to treat D'Argo, the opportunity had passed. The tech and the leader were paying attention to D'Argo and the Diagnosan, but the other one was paying more attention to his surroundings than to the little drama that had just played out. She sighed. At least they were allowing Tikrel to help D'Argo.

As Aeryn continued to watch, Tikrel gently turned D'Argo back over onto his stomach. After a short examination, he lifted a fist and brought it back down very un-gently on D'Argo's head. The Nebari tech visibly winced. Unnoticed by all but Aeryn, and probably Tikrel, a DRD trundled through an opening identical to the one from which Aeryn watched, approaching D'Argo's face. Tikrel checked the color of D'Argo's blood and then, apparently not yet satisfied, lifted his fist again. Before he brought it down on the Luxan's head, the DRD seemed to nuzzle at D'Argo. As Tikrel's fist connected one more time, the little mechanoid backed away.

D'Argo's body stiffened at about the same time as the Diagnosan's strike connected, but the timing was such that Aeryn couldn't tell if his movement coincided with the DRD's nudge or the latest blow to his head. Either way, D'Argo was alive and suddenly fighting to get to his feet, or at least to his knees. The Nebari backed away a step or two, leveling a pair of rifles at the Luxan. Tikrel sat back abruptly, whipping his head backward in a defensive gesture and narrowly avoiding his mask being knocked askew by a struggling D'Argo.

Checking the area behind her for signs of movement, Aeryn again backed out of her hiding space. The way the players in the hangar were arranged now, both D'Argo and Tikrel were between her and the enemy. She carefully and silently made her way through the access channel, the DRD that had given her the communications crystal trundling along behind her.

If she couldn't help them from a distance, then she'd just have to get closer.

xxx

D'Argo shook his head violently, tankas flying. He blinked involuntary tears from his eyes, snorting. Frell, his head hurt! He didn't realize that he was growling, and thus didn't notice the apprehensive looks on his captors' faces. Thrusting himself to his knees, blinking his eyes again repeatedly to bring them into focus, he took stock of his surroundings.

At the moment, the only familiar sight was Tikrel's masked face. The Diagnosan said something, too fast for his microbes to catch. Beyond Tikrel was the incongruous sight of three Nebari, two of them armed and pointing their weapons at D'Argo. It amused him to note that, even though he was on his knees, wounded and unarmed, they were all at least a little afraid of him.

Unarmed. Frell. Earlier, before the sleep cycle, he and Chiana had been having what Crichton called a "date." D'Argo had strapped on his Qualta blade as usual, but Chiana had laughed and told him _that_ wasn't the blade she wanted to play with, so he had left it in his quarters. He closed his eyes for a microt, cursing himself for seven kinds of a fool.

Opening his eyes, D'Argo rose slowly to his feet and barked, "What the _frell_ are you doing on my ship?" His anger at himself gave the question more force than it would have had otherwise. He thought that Pilot and Moya would forgive him for the possessive. While the Nebari were still off balance, he reached out a hand to help the old Diagnosan to his feet. "Are you all right, Tikrel?"

Tikrel nodded and reached a hand behind D'Argo's head. He brought the hand back around and gave a satisfied nod at the sight of the clear blood that now covered the long fingers.

"You are the one called D'Argo?" one of the Nebari asked. He had an aura of command about him, lacking in the other two – the other male still trained his weapon on D'Argo while the female watched from behind one of Moya's diagnostic consoles, hiding behind it as though it were a shield.

Since the intruders seemed to know who he was, he didn't bother to answer the question, instead asking one of his own. "Who are you?" Directing the question to the leader, D'Argo made his tone as menacing as possible, not an easy thing to do given the throbbing at the back of his skull, the irritating trickle of blood into his shirt, and the hot spot that had popped up at the back of his head, quite separate from the area that was throbbing. He was a mess.

"My name is Gurvis." The Nebari leader gestured to his subordinate to lower his weapon. "We mean you and your crew no harm."

"Really?" D'Argo replied, sarcasm fairly dripping from his voice as he looked at Gurvis. He allowed a glint to reach his eyes that said more eloquently than words that he was just itching for a reason to allow himself to slip into hyperrage. Something that hadn't happened to him for quite some time, he realized. D'Argo allowed the silence to stretch between them, crossing his arms over his chest. He made note of the fact that only Gurvis dropped his weapon.

After a short but uncomfortable silence, Gurvis looked away and said, "I apologize. We are under strict orders to complete our task as quickly as possible. The control collar was the fastest way."

_Control collar? A _Nebari_ control collar, large enough to fit Moya?_ D'Argo narrowed his eyes, glaring at Gurvis, less sure now than he had been a microt ago just what the hezmana was going on.

xxx

Siporo stood in the middle of what was called the "center chamber" and sighed. She and the others had combed through the decks their intelligence reports had designated as the crew quarters, but had found exactly nothing. Oh, there were signs of life everywhere. They had found clothing draped across rumpled beds, boots apparently thrown across rooms for whatever reason, chairs toppled by the convulsions the Leviathan had undergone when the control collar was attched… Here in the center chamber, plates and cups that had been waiting to be cleansed were scattered at random, others that might have been in recent use had spilled their contents across the table and floor. But there were no living beings to be found, only those small, yellow mechanicals. It was becoming frustrating.

She and the rest of the squad had continued with their search after Noren had left them, ordered by Gurvis to search specifically for the Diagnosan. She had no idea if Noren had found the alien or even why Gurvis had been so adamant that he be found. After all, their stated purpose for being here was to find the Nebari girl called Chiana.

"Siporo, over here!" Rakiri, barely more than a boy, was gesturing wildly for her to look at something. If only to make him stop acting so…flamboyantly, she made her way over to him.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning in for a closer look.

"Blood." He poked a finger into a smear on the table's edge and presented his finding to Siporo's eyes, much too close for her to focus on it. She took hold of his wrist, pushing his hand back a bit further as he continued, "Nebari blood."

Indeed, the smear of color on his fingertip was the blue of Nebari blood. None of her squad had been injured. In fact, no one had been to this chamber at all until now – they had all been occupied with searching the crew decks.

"Good job, Rakiri. That's the first real sign that Chiana is even on this ship." She clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, avoiding as best she could touching the distasteful queue of long hair that hung in a black tail down the center of his back. "Now, we just need to find the rest of her."

xxx

Winona drawn and steady in his hand, John moved cautiously through Moya's corridors toward the main hangar. He stayed close to the walls, just in case his earlier vertigo reared its ugly head, but, so far, he was doing fine. Not even a twinge of dizziness.

The side effects of the pregnancy were like that. He'd go for days at a time with no symptoms at all, then he'd be hard pressed to function like a normal human being for a couple days and then he'd be fine again, like now. _I wonder if adrenalin has an effect on that?_ he mused, ducking behind a rib as two Nebari passed through the intersection he was approaching.

John absolutely did not want to be caught or even spotted this close to the laundry room. The last thing he wanted was to lead the bad guys to Chiana. This was the third time since she had moved in on Moya that the Nebari had tried to take her, for whatever reason – the first time had brought her into Moya's dysfunctional little family, the second had resulted in the knowledge that Pip's brother was still alive, after all, and that he was now the leader of the Nebari "resistance." Whatever their reasoning was this time, they couldn't have her.

Having given the passing Nebari enough time to move on, John approached the intersection. Poking his head around the corner, he looked first left then right, just like his mama had taught him. As certain as he could be that the coast was clear, he dashed across and continued on toward the hangar.

Ten minutes and two levels later, John was finally near his destination. He'd had to duck another pair of bad guys who seemed to be performing a door-to-door search, but nothing more serious than that. He spotted a DRD up ahead. A quick survey of his surroundings told him that there were no Nebari in sight. Hoping there were none in sound range, either, and that the DRD was close enough, he said, barely audible, "Pilot? You there, bro?" The DRD stopped and pointed an appendage back at John, then began to roll toward him.

"Yes, Commander," came Pilot's slightly delayed reply.

"I don't suppose you've gotten any kind of head count on the intruders…?"

"I do not have an exact count, John, but there are at least a dozen on board." There was a pause before he continued, "Moya was able to run a partial scan of the Nebari ship, before the power to the control collar was increased – we believe that there are several more Nebari remaining on their ship."

John made another quick check of the corridor before he asked, "How many of the dozen on Moya are in the hangar?" They'd worry about taking care of the bastards actually on Moya before taking on however many might still be in the Nebari ship.

"I believe there are three Nebari in the hangar with Captain D'Argo and Diagnosan Tikrel."

"Where's Aeryn?"

"She is observing. Officer Sun is not in the hangar itself, but she is in a position from which she has a clear view of it." Another pause. "Commander…"

"Yeah, Pilot?"

"D'Argo also has been fitted with a communications crystal."

"Hallelujah," John whispered with another quick check of the area. "Pilot, where's D'Argo in relation to Aeryn? And in relation to the door?" If he could get into position so that he and Aeryn could set up a cross-fire, D'Argo and Tikrel might be able to make their escape. He could see the main door from where he was, so he slipped back in behind another rib, the DRD following dutifully.

"D'Argo is near to the wall that includes the main door, John. I do not think it advisable for you to attempt to enter through that door, however."

John smiled and shook his head. "Hadn't planned on it, Pilot." There was no way he could open that door without those in the room noticing it. "It'll be a tight squeeze," he continued in a whisper, "but I guess it won't be the first time I've had to use one of the doggy doors." There was an access point not too far to the right of the hangar door.

John's nose itched and he reached up without a second thought to rub at the offending tickle. At about the same time, a pulse pistol appeared, held in an unwavering gray hand, pointed at his head from the other side of the rib behind which he had tucked in. _Damn._ How long had the bastard been standing there?

More than a little pissed at himself for being so careless, John thought, _Aeryn is going to kill me._ Raising his hands above his head, Winona loose in his grip, he said aloud, "I don't suppose we could talk about this?"


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Moya groaned as another wave of discomfort sped through her systems from the control collar. It wasn't pain, exactly – nothing at all like the sensations the Peacekeeper control collar had put her through for so many cycles – but it was…unpleasant. The discomfort was infrequent and coincided with her attempts to communicate with Pilot on anything more than a purely sensory level. The control collar seemed unable to detect it when she communicated with her DRDs, as though they – or the frequencies she used – were beneath the notice of the Nebari.

The presence of the Nebari ship, hovering by her treblin side like a malevolent cloud, was another source of distress. It had moved to well within sensor range, but was surrounded by an energy field that confounded her sensors even as the control collar radiated waves of pseudo-pain each time she attempted to break through that field.

A quick internal scan told Moya that Chiana, Rygel, Stark, Noranti, and Tinkerbell were all in the amnexus chamber. With so many in one place, she sent another pair of DRDs to the chamber to facilitate communications. Ka D'Argo was inside the main hangar, and both John Crichton and Aeryn Sun were just outside. Moya was uncertain as to Diagnosan Tikrel's location, since he was now the only one of her crew that had not been fitted with a crystal. From several of her DRDs, she was aware that there were Nebari both in the hangar and on the tiers that contained the crew quarters.

She continued to do what she could, monitoring the movements of her crew as she and Pilot brainstormed ideas to help them expel the Nebari. She ignored the discomfort, pretending that it did not exist.

xxx

"Hands behind your head." The Nebari issued his order in a tone that allowed for no argument as he took Winona from John's grasp, slipping her into his belt. The pulse pistol aimed at John's head never wavered.

Just in case the guy had an itchy trigger finger, John complied, raising his arms and lacing his fingers together at the back of his head. The movement pulled his t-shirt loose from his belt, reminding him that he would have to ditch the leathers in favor of something a little less constrictive before much longer.

"Commander, has something happened?" Pilot's voice seemed to echo at the back of his head and John realized that the DRD was still trundling along after him.

He couldn't just tell Pilot the truth, that he was a frelling moron and had gotten himself captured. Instead, he directed a comment to the young Nebari, who couldn't be much older than Pip, and hoped Pilot would catch the significance. "Careful with Winona, man, she doesn't like being abused by strangers."

"I shall take that as a yes, Commander." _Good man, that Pilot_, John thought to himself with a small smile.

"Move." The Nebari at his back gave him a light shove toward the hangar door before speaking into his own version of a comms badge. "Gurvis, I just caught a Sebacean male outside the hangar."

"I'm not Sebacean," John said, stalling a little while he turned as much as he could to examine the Nebari before he was roughly persuaded to set his eyes forward again. He was able to learn what he wanted in those few seconds – Winona was only loosely restrained in the boy's belt, oriented so that John would be able to re-arm himself if an appropriate opportunity presented itself.

Pilot spoke in his head again. "I have advised Captain D'Argo and Officer Sun of your situation."

_Gee thanks, Pilot_, John thought. _You gonna tell Pip, now, too? Then _everybody_'ll know what an ass I am._ With a sigh, he walked over to the hangar door. Pulse pistol still pointed at John's head, the Nebari reached around him to open the door, giving the Human another light shove.

xxx

Stark chanted loudly, tucked into what could be called a corner of the otherwise round laundry room – Chiana heard the faint echo of his voice as it bounced off the convergence of ribs a few motras away. She had been pacing for the past solar day, it seemed, although she knew that it was much closer to an arn. As the chanting continued, becoming more aggravating with each passing microt, her steps became more and more rapid, each footfall landing more heavily than the last.

Tink splashed about in the amnexus fluid – something about the chemical composition stripped off a film that had formed on her wings, allowing them to function more smoothly. When the Diagnosan's assistant had commented on that, a boring conversation – at least boring to Chiana – had begun between Tink and Wrinkles about easy medical remedies. And that was what had set Chiana to pacing.

The two of them were still at it – the medical talk. Their voices blended with Stark's ceaseless chanting and Tink's arrhythmic splashing, weaving a sticky web of frustration around the Nebari girl.

"Gheeeyak!" Chiana screamed at Stark. "Will you shut the frell up?" The chanting abruptly stopped. She felt a little guilty at the remorse that radiated from the man in palpable waves, but her relief was too intense for the guilt to last. She wondered if her ability was mutating again.

"All of you shut the frell up," Rygel added from the spot where he had earlier landed his thronesled, claiming that he needed a nap. His thronesled rested on the floor of the chamber opposite Stark, as far away from the others as he could get. "How is anyone supposed to sleep with all of you yammering away?" She heard Tink's jaws click shut as her conversation with Wrinkles suddenly stopped – the little Paakrit's piping voice was able to cut through any background noise. No doubt her carapace had modulated to an embarrassed purple.

"Leave Tink alone, your Frogness, she isn't…isn't hurting anything," Chiana shot at Rygel, completely ignoring the fact that she had just had the same effect on Stark a few microts before. "Pilot, is there any word?"

Not knowing what was going on with D'Argo, other than what that fekking dream had implied, coupled with Crichton taking off on his own, was killing her by degrees. She couldn't take much more of this…this uncertainty.

"Yes, Chiana. D'Argo is alive and well in the main hangar, along with Diagnosan Tikrel." Her relief was so great that she felt suddenly boneless, liquid, rather than solid. She reached out a hand, feeling for the nearest bulkhead, and sat abruptly, sliding down with her back against the wall. She heard the sound of small wheels and motors scrambling to move away from her landing zone. "I…" Pilot began to say something else but trailed off again almost immediately, sounding embarrassed.

"You what?" she prompted him, distracted by one thought. _D'Argo is alive._ Her vision had been wrong and D'Argo was alive. And if her vision was wrong about that, or at least, if her interpretation of the vision was wrong, then maybe they weren't all about to be taken by the Establishment…

But above all else, D'Argo was alive.

"I apologize, Chiana. I should have informed you of D'Argo's status earlier."

She didn't feel the tears tracing a path down her cheeks until she felt a gentle touch, wiping them away. Reaching out, she grabbed at the tiny hand, causing its owner to let out a short squeak. Chiana heard the faint whir of Tink's wings, felt the whisper of air on her cheek, stirring wisps of hair to tickle her skin.

D'Argo was alive!

"Are you okayee, Chiana?" Tink asked, patting the Nebari girl's cheek.

"Yeah… Yeah, Tink, I'm… I'll be fine." _D'Argo is alive…_

xxx

The seed of a plan had begun to gel in Aeryn's mind when Pilot interrupted her thought process to inform her that John had been taken. For a split microt, her mind actually seemed to shut down. It started working again, faster than before, when the hangar door opened and John came through. There was a tall Nebari at his back, pointing a gun at his head.

"Pilot, send as many DRDs with weaponry as you can to the main hangar." The sight of John Crichton in danger didn't change anything, it merely moved up the timetable.

"They are on their way, Aeryn."

"John, D'Argo, be ready to move on my signal," she continued, trusting that the crystal comms would work as well relaying her voice to them as it did between herself and Pilot.

Her current position was much nearer to the other inhabitants of the room, shielded to an extent by a rolling tool rack. She was close enough now to hear what all parties said as she maneuvered through the access hatch into the hangar and rolled into a crouch, although she could see only John and his captor. She'd deal with John and the whys of his deviation from their earlier discussion later, after the present threat was dealt with.

"Hi, there. I'm John Crichton. Damn glad to meet you." At the microt, John was between her and the Nebari holding him at gunpoint – the angle created by her crouch didn't allow for any kind of shot. Not unless she planned to shoot John, which wasn't such a bad idea just now.

Aeryn shook her head in disgust and stood, pulse pistol trained on what little target John's captor presented. Before, the angle had allowed no shot at all – now she had a possible head shot, but not much else. There was too much risk of hitting John if things went badly, which was likely. So Aeryn bluffed. "Step away from Crichton. If you don't, I will not hesitate to shoot." Her voice was ice, like the blood pounding through her veins.

xxx

A few microts or a few arns later, Chiana neither knew nor cared, she became aware of the others' agitated voices. She couldn't grasp what they were saying, though, until Stark's manic voice broke through.

"Captured! Captured! Crichton captured!"

_Frell._

Chiana thrust herself gracelessly to her feet and took a couple of steps toward the faint vibration that indicated a nearby DRD.

_"—John Crichton. Damn glad to meet you."_

She heard nothing else through the crystals for a couple of microts, then, _"Step away from Crichton. If you don't, I will not hesitate to shoot."_ Aeryn's voice, crackling with tension and restrained violence.

Surrounded by darkness, Chiana closed her eyes and, concentrating, turned toward the faint whine of the thronesled's motor. "Ryg, get me to the hangar."

xxx

The Nebari did exactly as Aeryn had hoped. In his inexperience, he pulled John close, right up against his body. While his pistol remained trained on the Human, there was now more of the Nebari exposed, even though he held John as a shield.

"You won't risk him," came the contemptuous reply.

Aeryn paid no attention to the others in the room, save to note their location. She could tell from the sound that the DRDs she had requested were surrounding the group. She focused on her target as she smiled coldly, knowing that smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Don't bet on it, white boy," John said, blue eyes locked on hers. "You don't know how much I've pissed her off."

All hezmana broke loose then, as almost overpowering music blasted through the hangar.

_No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…_

Again, Aeryn paid no heed to the startled reactions of those around her. Nothing was important save John and the baby as she took aim at the black eye visible beyond John's left ear.

"Now," she said.

John dove to his right before the Nebari could react. Aeryn took her shot and put a pulse blast into that space-black eye. She watched as John rolled, Winona gripped securely in both hands. He fired at another Nebari male, even as the one that had held him prisoner crumpled to the floor.

_And no one knows what it's like, to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies…_

The DRDs fired at the Nebari, dozens of pulse blasts, varying in intensity from light enough to weld a pair of microwires to hot enough to pierce Peacekeeper body armor, even if only with a pin-prick. The DRDs kept up their covering fire, carefully avoiding any damage to Moya's crew even as they harried the remaining Nebari into seeking cover.

_But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be…_

D'Argo pushed Tikrel out of the line of fire. As Aeryn watched dispassionately, the Diagnosan scrambled from the main area of battle, secreting himself under a metal shelving unit.

_I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…_

As though time had slowed, she saw John's pulse blast slice through the smoke in the hangar. The damaged rifle flew from white Nebari hands, even as the rifle shot whizzed past Aeryn's ear, close enough for her to feel the heat.

_No one knows what it's like, to feel these feelings, like I do, and I blame you, you, you…_

She became aware of the Nebari leader taking aim at her, ignoring the DRD pulse blasts zinging his way in order to remove the real threat, and brought her own pistol to bear, but D'Argo got there first, slamming into the man. They crashed into the rolling tool chest Aeryn had earlier hidden behind, a tangle of arms and legs and tankas. The chest careened into the diagnostic console before skidding across the hangar toward a free-standing spotlight.

The Nebari tech cowered behind the diagnostic console, her long white hair pooling on the floor as she tried to become one with it. The woman was surrounded by DRDs, weapons at the ready although they no longer fired. No danger from that quarter. Aeryn dismissed her, returned her attention to the firefight.

_No one bites back as hard on their anger, none of my pain and woe can show through…_

Observing through the swirling smoke that the Nebari threat had been neutralized, Aeryn ordered, "Cease fire." Instantly, the DRD weapons fire stopped. Whimpering from the tech could be heard for another microt below the beat of the music blasting through the hangar.

_But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be…_

No one moved for several more microts. Aeryn stood with her arms outstretched, pulse pistol aimed at the space in which the Nebari leader had stood, before being tackled by D'Argo.

_I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…_

John lay on his back, shoulders lifted from the floor, knees raised, Winona aimed at another Nebari male.

_No one knows what it's like, to be mistreated, to be defeated, behind blue eyes…_

D'Argo held the Nebari leader in a chokehold around his white-skinned neck, which had begun to darken into an interesting shade of blue, spreading up toward his face.

_And no one knows how to say that they're sorry, and don't worry, I'm not telling lies…_

The Nebari woman cowered still, though she was now quiet. She was a black and gray and white bundle of quivering fabric and hair, surrounded a yellow cordon formed by half a dozen DRDs, her arms curled protectively over her head.

_But my dreams, they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be…_

A body lay by the hangar door, its single remaining eye staring upwards at nothing.

_I have hours, only lonely; my love is vengeance, that's never free…_

Diagnosan Tikrel's long-fingered hand could be seen extending from beneath the shelving unit.

_No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes…_

There was sudden silence as the music faded out. The spotlight chose that moment to crash to the floor, losing its battle with the tool chest. The glass bulb shattered on impact.

"Well, you know what they say…" John drawled. "It ain't a party 'til something gets broke."


End file.
